The Sword, the Stone, and the Sorcerer
by K'diwa Eldariel
Summary: When Camelot comes under siege, Merlin knows what he must do to help Arthur save it. He also knows that this will cost him his life. Can he make the choice, or will the stress get to him first? Friendship, no slash.
1. Dream Warnings

_The Sword, the Stone, and the Sorcerer_. Siege! When Camelot is attacked by a vicious warlord, his magic-wielding daughter, and their army of apparently undead soldiers, Merlin knows exactly what he needs to do. The problem is, he knows he's going to die doing it, and the stress is starting to get to him.

Updated! I changed the season the story takes place in from summer to spring. You'll see why.

/\/\

(1) Dream Warnings

_War. It had never been one of his favorite things, but he could sometimes see it the way Arthur did, see it as a test, as a way to protect the ones he loved. Sometimes. There was no honor in this, though. _This_ was suicide._

_He looked at the carnage around him in barely concealed horror. All the dead were from Camelot. All of them. The enemy couldn't be killed, for they were already dead, just shells for _her_ to use in her father's war. He could feel her in the camp, laughing at him, laughing at Arthur and his knights._

_Arthur! Where was Arthur?_

_The cold prick of a sword point on the back of his neck erased the sudden panic. He knew that sword! His heart surged in joy._

_"Merlin." Arthur's voice was flat, expressionless, and as Merlin turned to face his prince, Excalibur never wavered from its place on Merlin's neck. "I thought I told you to never to show your face here again…traitor."_

"Merlin! Merlin, wake up! I can't _believe_ this," Arthur muttered, casting about for some way to wake his manservant –who was currently twitching and moaning in a way that was completely not called for on a mild spring day, not to mention a little bit alarming. Arthur raked a hand through his blonde hair. Or maybe a lot alarming. "Gwen!" He seized Gwen's bucket of water and promptly emptied it over Merlin's head.

"Yaah!" Merlin came awake with a yell. "I swore to protect –" Merlin stopped midsentence and stared up at Arthur and Gwen. "Why am I wet?"

"You fell asleep in a puddle," said Arthur.

"He dumped a bucket of water on your head," Gwen corrected. "Sorry, Sire, but that was a flimsy lie, even for you."

"Guin-ev-ere! I can lie quite well, thank you. And you _did_ fall asleep. You were having a nightmare." Merlin smiled at the prince's put-out tone, albeit a little thinly.

"Yeah," said Merlin. "I gathered that." He hoisted himself half up with a grunt. "I need to get back to work."

"Huh-uh. Sit."

Merlin frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"Sit," said Arthur again. "I'm sitting with you until you talk."

"About what?" said Merlin. It was Arthur's turn to frown. Why was it that whenever he uttered the words 'talk' or 'explain' Merlin's deep blue eyes changed, as if he'd pulled a curtain closed to hide their depths? What had Merlin to lie about? What was he hiding?

"Now," said Arthur, banishing his thoughts. "How long have you been having these nightmares?"

Merlin shrugged. "Not long."

"Merlin. I'm not _stupid_. There are dark circles under your eyes. How long?"

"A few weeks," Merlin amended. "And the stupid part is debatable." He smirked, and Arthur smiled a little, before whacking him hard on the shoulder for his cheek. _There_ was the Merlin he knew.

"Oi! Quit trying to change the subject. I was–"

Merlin's smirk grew wider. "Worried about me?"

"Tcha!" Arthur waved a hand. "You're my servant. You start dozing off and muttering something about the end of the world, of course I want to know if I need to get a new guy instead of a lazy lout like you."

Merlin was practically grinning now. "He'd be better behaved."

"And more punctual," Arthur added.

"Respectful, too. Subservient, even."

"Won't ever offer his own opinions to me or the court. Polite."

"Sycophantic."

"Exactly," said Arthur with relish.

"You'd be bored out of your mind."

"True enough," said Arthur. He looked at his manservant –no, friend. "True enough."

"And the dream ended the same way?" Gaius asked. The court physician regarded his ward over steepled fingers.

"Yeah," said Merlin. He swallowed. "With Arthur trying to kill me."

/\

"That is the second time this week that you have had that dream. I am beginning to think that you are right."

"That it's a warning." Merlin nodded. "You know, I'm beginning to understand Morgana now. Too much of this would make _anyone_ snap."

"Let us hope you have a stronger constitution, Merlin," said Gaius. "We can no longer ignore the warnings. Be careful. Do _not_ use magic!" Merlin grimaced. "Merlin!"

"All right, all right, I'll try not to. I really am happiest when I _can_ use magic, though. Without it I'm…caged. I can't properly protect Arthur without it."

"I know." Gaius smiled fondly at the younger man across the scrubbed wooden table. "Just be extra careful. Being caught using magic still means death. I want you to make sure the second half of the dream _never_ happens."

/\

Author's note: So! My second story, this time for BBC Merlin. I highly recommend this show, despite the fact that it half-butchers half of the existing Arthurian legend…


	2. Dawn Falcon

Thank you, everyone, for your awesome reviews! For those waiting for a "Redemption of the King" update…it will get done, never fear! I am moving to college in less than a week, so it might take a while longer to do the story proper justice.

/

(2) Dawn Falcon

"-And you need to get it done fast, since King Tor is arriving early with very nearly his entire court. We _need_ this treaty with Gwynedd. What?" Merlin, in the process of buckling the buckles on Arthur's new leather jerkin, had stopped suddenly, and was staring up at him with narrowed eyes. "What?"

"There's a girl, isn't there?" Merlin could not keep the wariness out of his voice.

Arthur snorted. "Of course, Merlin, of course. There's _always_ a girl. Every king in the immediate area has a son who he wants to be my best friend, and a daughter he wants me to marry." He smirked. "Tiresome," he said cheerfully, "but such is my sorry lot in life."

Merlin resisted the sudden urge to smack him. "Sure," he said sarcastically, fiddling with the buckles again.

"It _is_ tiresome though," Arthur continued as if he hadn't heard Merlin. "Having all these kings with their sycophantic nobles following after them, _parading_ their daughters around –daughters decked out like peacocks and who look like they'd faint if you so much as _sneezed_ on them…"

"Right," said Merlin, as he put a shoe on Arthur's foot. "Because none of them compares with a strong, cheeky, lovely young woman –" He grabbed the other shoe.

"Merlin," Arthur warned.

"–With hair that falls in mahogany waves–"

"Merlin." His manservant's grin was blithely wicked.

"–And whose skin is the color of tea with just a touch of milk ad–"

"Merlin!" Arthur thwacked him on the back of the head with a riding glove. "_Shut_ _up_." Merlin shut up, though his lips quivered with suppressed laughter at Arthur's mortified expression as the prince swept from the room. With any luck at all he would run straight into Gwen.

Ah, the perks of his job. But really, Arthur was right, and that was the cause of Merlin's wariness. There was _always_ a girl with these visiting kings. And where there was a girl there was always _someone_ (be it the girl herself, the girl's father, an uncle, or whatever) trying to cast some sort of love spell or brewing some sort of love potion to ensnare Arthur. Always. And it worked more often than Merlin liked to admit.

/

"She's lovely." The words slipped out before Merlin could stop them. It was true. Niniane, daughter of King Tor of Gwynedd, needed no spell to capture men's hearts. She sat tall on her well-bred horse, waves of red-gold hair cascading down her shoulders. Even from a distance she was beautiful and proud.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Not the fainting kind, which is nice, but, as you so _tactfully_ pointed out this morning, she isn't exactly my type."

Merlin resisted the urge to say "Good". Instead, he muttered "Don't tell Uther that. He's watching you like a hawk."

Arthur looked back over his shoulder at his father. "Blast, he is. And it's King Uther to you, Merlin."

"Right, sorry." Merlin silently cursed his clumsy tongue. It was a little difficult to speak with respect for a man who would kill you if you so much as _smelled_ like magic.

Arthur smiled his best princely smile and walked with his father to where the royal party was dismounting. "Welcome to Camelot, King Tor, Lady Niniane."

/

Arthur's smile had been entirely too gleeful when he informed Merlin that there was to be a feast. A formal feast. Which meant that Merlin had to wear the formal uniform of the Pendragon household servants.

Bother.

"You have no idea the depths to which I _hate_ this hat," muttered Merlin. He walked behind Arthur on the way to the great hall, and tried not to go cross-eyed from glaring at the ostentatious cluster of rather battered feathers hanging off the old-fashioned headpiece.

"Surely it's not _that_ bad."

"Would _you_ wear it?"

Arthur looked scandalized. "Heavens, no."

"There you go then," said Merlin smugly.

"It _is_ bad," said a musical voice behind Merlin. He and Arthur whirled to find Lady Niniane, attended by Gwen, regarding Merlin speculatively. Merlin stared right back. The princess of Gwynedd had the narrow, pale face and red hair of her mother's people, the long nose and dark eyes of her father's, and something…different…

Merlin gave himself a mental shake. How was he supposed to protect Arthur from this girl if even he was stunned by her beauty?

"Here," said Niniane. She walked behind him, reached up, and did _something_ with the hat. It was still on Merlin's head, and he could feel her breath on the back of his neck (who was this woman, and why was she being so familiar with a servant?). "There," she said, stepping back to admire her handiwork.

Gwen looked mildly impressed. Arthur's face was inscrutable. Merlin snatched the hat off and inspected it. He had to admit, it was much better, though he wasn't quite sure what exactly she'd done to it. "Thank you, Milady."

"Anytime, Dawn Falcon."

"Wh–"

The trumpets signaling that they should enter the great hall neatly cut off Merlin's question.

/

The words rolled around in Merlin's head. _Dawn_ _Falcon_. Niniane had called him _Dawn_ _Falcon_. Why? He had been called several names, but never Dawn Falcon.

Names. Names were important. They identified, and in some cases shaped their bearers. Such was true of Merlin's names. Merlin was his birth-name, given to him by his mother and father. It was an appropriate name for the young boy who could do magic (and for the young man who was now the secret protector of Camelot), for the falcon that bore the name was small and swift and fierce, and Hunith's son was likewise –slight, quick, with a large heart and a hard to arouse, though sharp, temper. As he grew into the man he was now, Hunith could not help but notice the appropriateness of her choice –her son's too-wise eyes even resembled his namesake's. To Merlin himself this name was a safe name –it betrayed no hint of a magical heritage and thus could be used near Uther and his son.

And then there was the second name. A name in the old tongue. It was a language banned in Camelot, as it was the first language of the druid peoples, who were patently unwelcome in any land ruled by Uther Pendragon. A name that Merlin had been born with, though of his parents perhaps only Balinor had known of its existence. A truename, like most names in the Old Religion, that told the hearer just as much about _what_ Merlin was as _who_ he was. A good name, a layered name. _Emrys_. Emrys. It could be translated as _Child_ _of_ or _Keeper_ _of_ _Light_. Or, alternately, _Child_ _of_ or _Keeper_ _of_ _the_ _Dawn_.

Merlin almost dropped a jug of wine. Ha! Merlin Emrys! Dawn Falcon! Niniane had simply translated his names. Something hard and cold settled into the pit of his stomach, destroying his elation. In order to translate his names, Niniane had to know them. And in order to know that he was called Emrys, she would have had to have learned it from Gaius (extremely unlikely), a druid, or she would have to be a sorceress in her own right. Merlin stared hard at the woman seated across from Arthur. This was _not_ good.

/

**AN: **Gotta agree with Merlin. So, who is this lady? I have to admit inspriration for this story comes form readin Mary Stewarts Arthurian saga, particularly _The Crystal Cave_. The cave will absolutely have a cameo appearance. I chose the name Niniane because it is a variation of the name of the woman who is Merlin's ultimate downfall in the legends...hint, hint.


	3. Mym

(3) Mym

"Careful! Don't trust her!" Arthur sat bolt upright in bed. "What the–" He sighed. What a strange dream that had been, something about a sorceress wreathed in flame and a sword and Merlin, and the sorceress being mightily cheesed off at him…blast. The dream was fading, and Arthur couldn't remember anything except a strange feeling of joy and irritation at the fact Merlin had come back –come back from where?

Arthur groaned and flopped back onto his pillows. When he was king, he would have to remember to go easy on the long and extravagant parties. Less wine and more chitchat equaled fewer nonsensical dreams. Yes, that was it. Arthur rolled over and slept again, and dreamed no more.

**

* * *

**

"I really don't know what to make of you, Emrys." Niniane's voice drifted out of the darkness of the courtyard, not unexpectedly, but unexpectedly close. "I had heard of you, and was keeping my eyes open, but _really_. You must be either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid, to have such a strong magical gift and yet live right under Uther's nose."

"Most people say the latter," said Merlin wryly. "I don't know what to make of you either. Who are you?"

"Niniane, daughter of Tor, son of Tared, princess of Gwynedd. My druid-name is Mym."

"Mym," Merlin repeated. "'Stoneheart'." A peculiar name. "And do you realize, Mym, the situation you have put us both in? You could betray me to Uther or Arthur, sign my death warrant –and I could do the same to you. You could make a mistake, get caught, and there goes any chance of peace."

"Wait," said Niniane. "You mean to say that Arthur doesn't _know_?"

"Of course he doesn't. I trust him with my life, but he _is_ his father's son. He would consider me having magic as the ultimate betrayal. If he knew, he might not kill me, but he _would_ send me away. How would I protect him then?" Merlin winced in the darkness. Of late, it seemed that not telling his closest friend the whole truth was the real betrayal. How much of what he had just said to Niniane was meant to convince himself?

Niniane laid a hand on Merlin's arm. "I will not betray you. _Only you can betray you_."

"Foresight?" Merlin asked, slightly impressed.

"My grandfather had the Sight, yes, and passed it to me, though it is not just that. I _will_ _not_ betray you, Merlin Emrys. It is a vow."

"Nor will I betray _you_, Niniane Mym," said Merlin. "From me, too, a vow."

Niniane's hand found its way down his arm and into his hand. Her slender fingers twined into his. "I had rather hoped we could be friends."

Merlin was not sure he could speak. Thank all the listening gods that it was dark! "I would like that," he said, rubbing the back of her palm with his thumb. "I would like that very much."

**

* * *

**

**AN:** Of course, neither of them are talking about friendship, are they? Things are about to get very interesting around Camelot…for better or worse. AHA! I have just figured out the horizontal lines! Next Chapter: "First of May", then "A Family of Fools"


	4. First of May

**AN**: Hello, all! Here are some updates!

* * *

(4) First of May

"Ack,"said Arthur. He closed his eyes, wished hard, and opened them again. No joy. Outside his window, below in the courtyard, girls dressed in pastel colors carried armloads of flowers every which way, batting their eyes at every man they passed. Gah. "I hate May Day. Of all the holidays, this has to be the most banal, annoying, pointless one."

"Really?" said Merlin as he laced Arthur's boots. "I would think that you would rather enjoy May Day. All the girls competing for your attention, and the right, as per your rank and the fact that it's May Day, to give your attention to whomever you please, regardless of rank."

Arthur thought about that a moment. "True. Maybe it's not as bad as I thought. Maybe I'll actually get to meet this girl of yours."

"What girl?" said Merlin, a little too swiftly.

"Oh, come _on_, Merlin. You've been sneaking off to who-knows-where for a week. Gaius has noticed. Gwen's noticed. _I've_ noticed. The only one who seems totally unconcerned is Niniane, which is a bit odd since she's always asking me about you. _Blast_ it, Merlin!" The manservant had ducked his head at the mention of Niniane. "It's one of her maids, isn't it? You started your sneaking after Tor and Niniane arrived."

Merlin didn't answer.

"I will have the truth, Merlin." He winced. "I sounded like my father there, didn't I?"

"Yep," said Merlin with a smirk. "Very Uther-y and kingly."

"Bah. Let's go make our flower crowns."

* * *

It seemed that the whole of the castle had turned out into the fields to make wreaths and garlands of grasses and flowers. Uther and Tor strolled together with a few other nobles, chatting and watching the antics of the younger generations.

Arthur wove another primrose into a wreath, and looked around, trying not to catch anyone's eye. "Do you see her?"

"Over there." Merlin pointed.

"Oh, good. I was beginning to think that I might have to wear this blasted thing myself." Arthur took a deep breath, and Merlin grinned slightly. Nervousness always made Arthur irritable.

"Good luck," said Merlin. "You need it."

Arthur grunted and made a beeline for a certain servant girl who was gathering purple shastas.

Merlin sat down to watch. "What the–" a weight settled itself neatly on his head. Merlin reached up and pulled it off. It was a crown, made of a blossoming hawthorn branch, woven with ivy. He looked around. No one nearby. He smiled broadly and turned the crown in his hands. "_Alyme_ _thas_ _wyrhtan_," he whispered, his blue eyes flashing gold. The crown shifted in his hands, tugging in the direction of the wooded fringe. He nodded, placed the gift crown back on his head, grabbed his own handiwork, and sauntered off in the direction of the trees.

"Gwen."

"Yaah!" Gwen whirled around. "Oh. It's you."

"_Thanks_," said Arthur.

"No!" Gwen seized his sleeve as he turned away. "I mean, I'm _glad_ it's you." She bit her lip to keep from flushing. "Really glad –you wouldn't believe how annoyingly bold the stable hands get on May Day."

"You jumped because you expected some cad?"

Gwen nodded.

Arthur's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "You didn't expect me at all, did you?"

"Well, you're the prince…you've said before that this is the definition of impossible…and Niniane is beautiful."

Arthur ran a hand through his hair. "And to think I usually count you as one of the wisest people I know! Guinevere." He paused and clasped her hand in his. "I am a prince. I have a responsibility to the people, and I don't think I would ever change that. I'm good at it, I _like_ it. But there are a lot of times when I wish I'd never heard of responsibility, had never been born a Pendragon, just so I could have a fair chance at a beautiful, decent woman like you. And it may _be_ impossible –but maybe I don't care. And as for Niniane…I just don't like her for some reason."

* * *

"You called?"

Niniane whirled to face Merlin. "Oh! You did get it –long-distance levitation isn't my strong suit. If I can't see it, it may not get there."

Merlin's smile belied his admonition. "You do realize that Uther was in that clearing too?" His smile grew broader as he saw his own flower crown sneaking up on Niniane.

"A calculated risk," said Niniane "Oh!"

"Gotcha," said Merlin as the crown descended on her head.

"How did you _do_ that?" She stared at Merlin. "Were you incanting a spell as you talked? My teacher tried to do that once, and accidentally singed his eyebrows off!"

Merlin shook his head. "With my luck, I'd do that too."

"What spell did you use, then?"

"I didn't," said Merlin simply.

"What?" Niniane blinked. "You used magic."

"Yes," said Merlin. "But I didn't use a spell."

Niniane's black eyes narrowed the same way they had when Merlin had told her 'no' to something (he couldn't remember what it was) a couple of days ago. "Explain."

"I have always been able to use magic without a spell," said Merlin. "I didn't know any real spells until I came to Camelot. No teacher either, unless Gaius counts. Some spells I study and use anyway. Usually though, after I do them once and understand how they work, I can do them without the spell anytime I want. Other times I know I haven't seen or used the spell before, but I still know it. It's like a hidden instinct whispers it to me." _And sometimes Kilgharrah does._ Merlin closed his mouth on that particular revelation. Kilgharrah was not his secret to share –he was Kilgharrah's lord, but he was most assuredly _not_ the dragon's master. Kilgharrah was his own secret.

Merlin felt a rumble of appreciation from the corner of his mind that had contact with the last dragon of Britain.

Niniane laughed. "You are full of mysteries, Merlin Emrys. Imagine, magic without a spell…" She sat and leaned against a tree. Merlin followed suit. "The peace talks are going fairly well, I think. When they're done, or wh –if they fall through, will you come with me, home to Gwynedd? We are not such an unfriendly country to sorcerers. You could have experienced teachers, there's practically a library devoted to spellbooks…"

"And there's you," Merlin finished for her. He conjured a spark and stared into it. He sent it weaving through his fingers, and finally into Niniane's waiting hands, where it turned into a fiery picture of a dragon.

Niniane snorted. "Show-off. You have a Dragonlord's obsession with fire."

Merlin simply smiled. If only she knew how right she was! "Why do you think I like you so much, Niniane Firehair?"

"Ha, ha. So, what about it, Merlin?"

Merlin was silent for a long moment. "It is…" he began finally. "More than a little tempting. Probably…probably yes, though ask me again when the time comes." He frowned.

Niniane smiled.

* * *

"So," said Gwen, "did you badger Merlin about his secret girl?"

"I did," said Arthur.

"And?"

"And you told me so. He weaseled out of answering, as usual."

"I may know something you don't."

"Oh?" Arthur raised an eyebrow.

"Look behind you." Arthur turned. There, coming out of the fringes of the trees, was Merlin, holding hands with his mystery girl: Niniane, princess of Gwynedd.

Arthur was singularly not impressed.

* * *

**Author's Note**: What the heck is Merlin thinking? Is he seriously considering leaving Arthur's service to follow Niniane? Also, Arthur is not pleased. Will this cause trouble?


	5. A Family of Fools

(5) A Family of Fools

"So," said Arthur. Merlin looked up, instantly wary. When a Pendragon spoke in that tone, it meant trouble for someone. "So. You and Niniane." There was ice in his voice.

"Yeah, I guess so," said Merlin lightly.

"Well, I don't like it. I don't like _her_."

Merlin's eyes narrowed, though his voice was polite. "You don't have to. It doesn't concern you."

"Merlin, she is a _visiting_ _princess_. You are a _servant_. _My_ servant. Of _course_ it concerns me. Forgetting the disparity in rank, a little mistake from you in your misguided romance and you could bring the whole alliance crashing down on our heads!"

"Will you _listen_ to yourself, Arthur?" Merlin shouted suddenly. "Here you are, having spent the entire day with Gwen, and you have the gall to object my having a relationship with Niniane? Can you be _that_ hypocritical?"

"I'm not being hypocritical! I'm _worried_. She's using you, Merlin, she _has_ to be."

"You're wrong," said Merlin quietly. "You're a fool." He shut the door on Arthur's outraged spluttering.

* * *

"Tell me the truth. How long?"

Uther murmured something too softly to hear.

Gaius made an outraged noise. "And to think, I never took you for a fool."

"Gaius! It wasn't that serious."

"Of _course_ it wasn't. But it bloody well is _now_!"

Merlin stopped short in the hallway outside the chamber door. Gaius never shouted, and he certainly never shouted at the king.

"Because of your stubborn pride…" Gaius continued. The conversation was muffled by the door.

Uther said something that sounded like a question.

"Too soon," was Gaius' response. "You need to tell Arthur. _Everything_."

Uther's voice rumbled sullenly.

"You don't have that luxury! You stole it from yourself! You stole it from your _son_. Good evening!"

Gaius barely managed to avoid slamming the door behind him. Merlin sucked in a breath. The old man's good-natured face was twisted in frustration and…grief?

"Fool," Gaius muttered to himself as the pair of them stumped back to the physician's quarters.

"It runs in the family," said Merlin thinly. Gaius raised an eyebrow at Merlin's black scowl. They went home, and neither asked the other what their respective sovereigns had done _this_ time.

* * *

**AN**: Arthur is being a hypocrite, but he means well, I think. He is not the fool Merlin thinks he is. Uther, on the other hand, has done something very stupid, something that neither Gaius nor Arthur will find it easy to forgive him for. That is, if Uther has the guts to tell Arthur before it's too late...


	6. Of Flame, Destiny, and Repercussions

(6) Of Flame, Destiny, and Repercussions

He stared into the candle flame, as if searching for its heart. _The_ _world_ _is_ _changing,_ _Merlin_, Kilgharrah whispered in his mind. _Your_ _choice_ _could_ _change_ _all_ _our_ _lives_.

"How will I know the right one?"

Kilgharrah was silent. A dragon never gave a straight answer –or answered a foolish question.

Light steps hurried down the stone stairs and into the room. Niniane sighed and ran a hand through Merlin's dark hair before seating herself across the scrubbed table from him. "The peace talks fell through. _Exploded_ is closer to the mark. My father refused to create an anti-magic law for Gwynedd, for obvious reasons, and Uther refused to ally with a land that was a 'festering cesspool of sorcery'. Didn't Arthur tell you?" she asked, looking at his surprised expression.

Merlin shook his head. "Arthur and I aren't exactly on the best of terms right now."

Niniane looked at him curiously. Merlin ducked his head and played with the candle flame. A sense of odd detachment was creeping over him.

He knew why she was here.

He had made his choice.

"What do you see when you look into my future, Niniane?"

"Just…flashes. Images. A wedding, a war, a crystal cave…You're coming with me, right?"

Merlin took a deep breath. "No."

"Please, Merlin. Come with me, where it is safer, where we can have a happy life. Be _safe_."

Merlin shook his head. "My destiny lies here, with Arthur. I can't leave him."

"Even when he's been horrible to you? Come on, Merlin, why? The Pendragon prince over freedom? Over me?"

Merlin sighed. "You have no idea how much I want to come with you, Niniane Mym. No idea. It feels like I'm being torn in two. But you don't understand –it's my destiny to protect Arthur, and to refuse would be futile. It is what I was born to do."

"Please. I love you. Come with me."

"And I love you. And I still can't."

* * *

"I understand if you want to change the plan," King Tor's voice sounded kind, which was odd. Gwen had rather gotten the impression that the man had hardly a kind bone in his body.

Niniane shook her red-gold hair. "No. He threw his lot in with the rest of them. He can deal with the repercussions." Her voice was steely, and Gwen shivered.

"Everyone is waiting for your signal."

"Good."

Gwen hurried away. She had to warn someone –warn Arthur, or Merlin. The thought stopped her in her tracks. "Oh, _Merlin_…"


	7. Confrontation

(7) Confrontation

_"Bannan_ _stan! Stan cume tha eorlwerod tha hwile beoth dryhtne!"_ Niniane's voice reverberated through the courtyard like a roll of thunder.

Out on the practice ground, Arthur looked up from the sword he was examining, and swore. "Leon! Cei! Bedwyr! Gareth! To me and to the courtyard!"

"Aye!"

"Knights and soldiers, to the courtyard!"

* * *

In his study, Uther looked up from a map. "Thomas! Ector!" He stood and drew his sword from its sheath. "The courtyard!"

* * *

The knights, soldiers, and gathering crowd converged on a strange scene. Niniane stood, her flame-colored hair wild, behind a large white boulder, along with the rest of the visitors from Gwynedd.

In front of the Camelot crowd stood Merlin, alone, undefended, and, to Arthur's mind, terribly pale. "Please," Merlin whispered.

"I warned you," said Niniane, "that you would be safer at my side." She turned her horse's head towards her company. "Let's go!" They rode out of the city unchallenged.

"No," whispered Merlin. "I didn't think she would actually use–"

"What?" Arthur stared at Merlin. "You knew she was a sorceress?"

Merlin didn't answer, which was answer enough.

"Merlin! You should have said something. You know full well that magic is dangerous."

"Of course it is dangerous!" Merlin snapped. "A sword is dangerous, a horse is dangerous, a rock is dangerous! Does that make them evil?" He stormed back in the direction of the castle.

"Merlin!"

* * *

**AN**: Poor Merlin. He doesn't deserve all the things that happen to him. Speaking of Merlin and magic, all the spells I'm using are in Anglo-Saxon, like they are in the show. If you squint, you can kind of figure out what they mean. For example, _stan _means stone. The spell in one of the previous chapters, if you say it aloud, vaguely sounds like "illume thy wright" (reaveal/illuminate your craftsman), which is what it means.

=squirrel=

There is a guy at my college who could be the twin of Bradley James. I am dead serious. I actually did a double-take when I saw him.


	8. Hoist

(8) Hoist

Why Merlin fled to the cavern where the Great Dragon had been imprisoned whenever he was upset was beyond Arthur's ken. He crept up and settled beside and slightly behind the manservant. It was a long time before he spoke. "You were right, you know. I think she really cared about you a little. And I _am_ a hypocrite, and too proud to listen when one of the people I trust with my life tells me so. I'm sorry."

Merlin shook his head. "You were right. She wasn't all she seemed. And–"

Arthur pulled Merlin's shaking form into a sideways embrace, and was pretty certain the damp cave was not the cause of the wet spot on the shoulder of his tunic. "And you feel like a fool, but you still love her and are going to miss her terribly," Arthur finished.

"You know," said Arthur after what seemed a long time, "you have always had this remarkable knack of being right where I need you when I am in trouble. You've probably saved my life more times than I realize. Most of all though, whenever I make a mistake you are right there, first to tell me off, then to help me put it right, and to hoist me back on my feet when I lose heart. Let me do the same for you." Merlin looked up at him, and Arthur smiled slightly. "Now come on." Arthur stood. "Gaius wants your help with that magic rock." He held out his hand for his sitting friend. "Coming?"

Merlin grabbed his hand.


	9. King's Stone

(9) King's Stone

Merlin and Arthur found Gaius, Uther, and several knights gathered around the summoned boulder. It was glowing. "What the blazes is it?" asked Arthur.

"I have not a clue, Sire," said Gaius. "It appears to be just a rock. It is, however, protected by some kind of magical barrier. See, I cannot place my hand on it." Gaius' hand hovered a few inches above the surface.

"Huh."

"May I?" asked Merlin, stretching his hands toward the stone.

"Absolutely."

Merlin placed a hand on the invisible barrier, frowning.

"What if it is a beacon?" Sir Cei, the tallest of the knights, asked. "The glowing puts me in mind of the signal fires of my home. We placed one on each of the mountain ridges so that they could be seen by anyone in Sauvage who cared to look."

"If it is a beacon, we need to find out what for," Gaius murmured.

* * *

"Well?" asked Gaius

"Cei is right, there is some kind of summoning spell, like a magical signal fire, on the stone." Merlin closed his eyes, trying to conjure up the memory. "_Bannan_ _stan_: stone of summoning. _Eorlwerod_ means warriors. And then _hw_ –oh no."

"What?"

"Niniane cast a spell on the stone to summon an army of dead warriors to destroy Camelot."

"You say, 'cast a spell on'", said Gaius. "The stone itself is not part of this spell?"

Merlin shook his head. "The summoning spell is on the surface of the stone. But the stone itself is magical too. An Old Magic, like Nimue used, but even older than she was."

"I see. Well, in any case we cannot simply go to Uther in the morning and say that we need to prepare for war because you felt that the rock in the courtyard was summoning an army of the undead. We must do research!" He sounded entirely too pleased.

Merlin groaned.

"Come. It will keep your mind off things."

* * *

_ This sword is for Arthur, and Arthur alone…._

Merlin rubbed his tired eyes and sat back in his chair. It was the duel with Tristan du Bois all over again, wasn't it? If the stone was summoning an army of undead warriors, how did you defeat them? How do you kill someone who is already dead? There were only two ways: kill them with dragonfire or a sword tempered in dragonfire. There was a sword made for Arthur like that, tempered by Kilgharrah for Arthur's battle with the Black Knight. But Uther had feared for Arthur's safety, tricked his son, and taken up the challenge himself. He even used the sword. Kilgarrah had been furious that the man who had killed so many magical beings had laid his hands on a blade of such power. Merlin smiled a little, remembering the stream of insults and imprecations that had spewed out in a hot torrent from the enraged dragon. Still, Kilgharrah had a point. It wasn't safe or wise to let any man other than Arthur wield Excalibur. Merlin hid it soon afterwards, hid it where no man could find the sword of the future king until the right time had come.

Perhaps it had come.

_ Perhaps…_

_ He turned to where he knew Arthur was standing, knelt, and handed his prince the sword, hilt first, as if offering a pledge of fealty. "Its name is Excalibur. It was made for you to wield and you alone, and it can kill those of Niniane's army."_

_ "And can it kill traitors?"_

_ Merlin bowed his head and waited for the stroke. "It can, my lord."_

"Merlin! For the love of all that's holy, look at all these books. Merlin! Gaius is in the throne room telling my father something about how we're all doomed, so I came by to see how you were holding up. Merlin?" Arthur brushed past a stack of tomes, sending a few of them toppling. There was a muffled thump, and a curse from somewhere in the parchment labyrinth.

"I thought as much. Honestly, all this about a boulder? It must be the king of stones, forgetting for a moment that it's a beacon for a marauding army of dead men."

Merlin's pale face appeared from over a pile of volumes, wearing a peculiar expression.

"What?" asked Arthur.

"Have I ever told you, Arthur," said Merlin slowly. "That you're brilliant?"

"Ah, no. You are normally under the impression that I'm an insufferable prat. Did that book fall on your head?"

"Well, you are a prat, but what you said –hang on." Merlin rustled through a stack of papers. "Here. Read this."

Arthur took the parchment. "Well," he said after a moment. "I never thought I'd say this about a magic rock, but that's kind of cool."

* * *

"A King's Stone," Gaius read slowly. "Merlin, you may be right."

"A sword may be sheathed inside a King's Stone," Uther read over the physician's shoulder, "protected from all elements and marauders, for a Sword in the Stone can only be removed by a king."

"Useful," Arthur commented. "If there were ever a dispute about succession, that stone would solve it."

"Indeed," said Uther. "Why don't we try it out? Sir Cei! Attempt to thrust your sword into this stone."

"You had better be right about this, Merlin." Cei muttered as he walked forward.

"I am."

Cei unsheathed his sword and saluted his king and his prince. He stood over the stone, the blade point-down, took a deep breath, and struck!

The blade sank into the stone up to the hilt.

"Fascinating," said Uther.

"Look, Sire." Gaius pointed. Words had appeared on the surface of the boulder, as if they had been carved: _Teskun, sword of Cei, son of Ector. He who takes this blade from the stone is rightwise born King of Camelot._

"Try to pull it out," said Uther.

Cei tugged at the blade, his face contorted with the effort. Sweat beaded down his face with the effort. "I cannot, Sire. It is stuck fast. "

"Anyone else?"

Sir Bedwyr stepped forward, and the next half-hour was passed with several knights and various servants trying to tug Cei's blade from the stone.

"You are a strange one, Merlin," Uther remarked as Sir Ector took his turn. "At once intelligent and idiotic. You figured this out, saved my son from a sorceress, from poisoning, and from more than one fell beast, and yet you are a simple servant. You don't seem to have any skill with a blade, you are remarkably cheeky –do not think I have forgotten the time that you burst into council and claimed to be a sorcerer to save a wrongly accused servant girl. What have you to say about all this?"

"My mother used to tell me to 'do right by others with the abilities given you. Otherwise, what is it all for?'"

"Your mother sounds very wise." Uther regarded Merlin curiously. For all that he had noticed Merlin's strangeness, he had never actually taken the time to _look_ at the boy. There was some strength in Merlin's lanky limbs, the king noted, though not enough to explain some of the feats he'd had a hand in. He had a gentle, unassuming grace about him. "Tell me more about yourself, Merlin."

Merlin took a deep breath. "I'm from Ealdor, Sire, just inside the border of Cendred's kingdom on a map, though we generally consider ourselves to belong to Camelot. It is a small villiage, poor, self-sufficient, a favorite target for raiders. I grew up causing mischief in the woods with my best friend, Will, and coming home to my mother's best vegetable soup."

"It sounds like a good life. What is your mother's name?"

"Hunith." Merlin looked slightly embarrassed. "She's…Gaius' sister. I'm his nephew."

Uther raised his eyebrows. "Really? I suppose I should have ferreted it out. Secret keeping runs in your family –the pair of you are extraordinarily close mouthed about the important things. You have not mentioned your father."

"I never knew him as a child." Merlin looked away. "He was…a _good_ man. An honorable man. He taught my mother how to read and write, and she taught me –and the rest of the village. Someone tried to kill him when I was a baby, and he had to leave the village to go into hiding. He never came back. My mother and I both thought he was dead. I met him before he died in the fight with Kilgharrah."

"I am sorry," said Uther, and was surprised to find that he was indeed sorry.

Merlin shook his head. "I am not the only child of my generation to have lost one or both parents during that time period. I'm one of the lucky ones –I missed out on the lion's share of the resentment."

Uther pondered that one. Merlin was _not_ alone. The boy had lost a father, Arthur had lost a mother…how many others were there? "Why did you leave Ealdor?"

Merlin sighed. "My mother sent me to Gaius. I was…too much like my father to stay in so small a place."

"Indeed. You have a sense of honor, a confidence that behooves you well here."

"Thank you, Sire."

"It moved!" Sir Thomas' shout interrupted the conversation. "Prince Arthur moved the sword!"

"Just a little," said Arthur. "I am no king."

"But I am," said Uther. He strode to the stone, grasped the sword at the hilt, and pulled it out as if from a supple sheath. "Your sword, Sir Cei."

Cei took the sword, knelt, and presented it, hilt-first, to his king. "It is ever yours." Uther took it, examined it, and handed it back, again hilt-first.

"Now would be a good time, while the knights are gathered, to speak on what approaches for the city," said Uther. "This stone is a King's Stone, fairly harmless. However, the witch Niniane has laid a spell on it to summon an army of warriors to Camelot. They will be here in five days. Prepare this city for a siege. I also strengthen my charge to you, knights of Camelot: deal justly and gently with all, help the weak and _do not quarrel_. The people are watching you."

* * *

AN: A sword in a stone! Cei and Bedwyr are Kay and Bedivere. I just tink the Welsh spelling looks cool! I'm trying to make an effort to make my chapters longer -you guys are right, it is no fun at all to read short, choppy chapters. How'd I do? If the whole thing about Gaius and Merlin being related sounds sudden, it is -I only recently found out that it was canon (I think. I could be wrong). Arthur says something in this chapter that is very much forshadowing...


	10. Preparation

(10) Preparation

"–And get that new scabbard from the tanner. I'm going to go see my father. And Merlin?"

"Yes, Arthur?"

"Get some sleep. It's going to be a long next few days."

Merlin hurried off, grateful, for once, for the chores. He needed to think.

Niniane's army would be upon them in five days. Arthur needed that sword. But what then? Arthur was just one man –the knights as a whole would be overwhelmed by the wraith warriors. Their blows, save for Arthur's, would be futile, and how long could Arthur last as the last man alive on the field of battle, faced with most of an army? There had to be another way.

Merlin set Arthur's armor down in the customary corner of his room where he polished it. It was a bit eccentric-looking to take the armor home with him, but this way no one but Gaius knew that he polished half of it with magic.

Magic. Niniane had magic on her side…but so did Arthur, for all that Merlin had to work in secret. There had to be a magical way, other than the sword, to stop the army.

Merlin paused in his polishing. What if he broke the summoning spell? That would do it, but it would be easier said than done. The spell on the King's Stone was a continuous type of spell, constantly refreshing itself from Niniane's powers. In theory, if she were injured or killed…

Merlin's mouth went dry. Kill Niniane to save Arthur? What a choice! There _had_ to be another way. He could cast a spell to immobilize the warriors, or Niniane herself. That would, however, require him being on the field of battle, exposing his magic for all to see. For _Arthur_ to see.

"This is ridiculous," Merlin muttered. "I call him my best friend and I don't have the guts to tell him that I'm a sorcerer. _Will_ knew." If he considered Arthur a friend, he owed it to him to reveal his magic. He owed it to Arthur to do whatever he could to help, whatever the cost. If he died, if Arthur couldn't understand, then so be it.

So be it.

* * *

"You wanted to see me, father?"

"Yes, Arthur." Uther looked up from the parchment on which he was writing. "Come in. Sit."

Arthur sat, and waited.

"You must forgive me. I do not need anything. I am sure you have more useful things to do, but I just wanted to spend some time with my son, before…before."

"I'm glad," said Arthur. They sat in silence a while, both thinking. "An army of dead men!" Arthur said suddenly. "How do you kill the dead? Camelot will be sieged until it falls apart."

Uther sighed. "It has been heavily on my mind as well."

"How did you kill Tristan du Bois?" Arthur asked. "Merlin said he was a wraith. And I still haven't gotten over the fact that you drugged me so that you could fight him instead of me."

"I do not know. I used your sword –I am grasping at straws here, but I used your sword."

"What, this one?"

"No, the sword I used was a hand-and-a-half long, not one." Uther closed his eyes. "The channel was almost the full length of the blade, and the blade was full tang into the hilt. A simple crosspiece, with a leather and wire bound grip and a coin shaped pommel. It had… an inscription on it, if I recall correctly. On one side of the blade it read 'Take Me Up' and on the other 'Cast Me Away'"

"You have a good memory, father."

"It was a very fine sword." The longing was evident in his voice. "Mine could not match it."

"A very fine sword which I do not own!" said Arthur, half-laughing, half exasperated.

"And yet, Merlin insisted it was yours. He was extremely reluctant to let me touch it."

Arthur frowned. "Merlin."

"Your manservant seems to have an answer –or _be_ an answer to almost everything."

"Mmm. It gets rather annoying sometimes."

"You should go to bed, Arthur."

"I should." Arthur rose. "Is that–" He snatched up a small cup from Uther's writing desk and sniffed it. "This is one of Gaius' remedies. It has _poppy_ in it. Are you in pain, father?"

"It's nothing," said Uther swiftly. "But Arthur –never forget that I am _proud_ of you. You will make a fine king of Camelot."

"Thank you," said Arthur quietly. He slipped out the door, and Uther returned to his letter.

_My Dear Arthur,_

_I write this to you as we are about to face one of the greatest perils we have ever faced as father and son. It is high time you knew the truth, for…_

_

* * *

_Merlin stared at the supple leather scabbard in his hands, apparently lost in thought. This would be the scabbard for Arthur's sword, for Excalibur. _I can't talk my way out of this one, can I, Kilgharrah?_ said Merlin in his mind. _Arthur has to be there when I get the sword. He has to know the truth –he _deserves_ to know the truth. But first, this scabbard…_

"Don't."

"What?" Merlin started and looked at Gaius.

"Don't. I know that look. You're thinking about doing something to that scabbard, probably something magical, probably something very unhealthy."

"I was thinking of putting a ward on it."

"Oh." Gaius looked surprised for a moment. "What kind of ward?"

Merlin smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "This one. _Beo nied freonlufu be amundan Artur Pen-dragon fram daru_." The smile was genuine now as Merlin's eyes flashed gold. "There." His knees buckled.

"Merlin!" Gaius caught him halfway to the floor, and half dragged him to a chair. "Didn't anyone teach you that wards are dangerous? _Especially_ when they are so close to your heart. Even I caught the meaning of that –_be bound in friendship to protect Arthur Pendragon from injury_? Was that a spell on yourself or on the scabbard?"

"You're my teacher," Merlin reminded him gently.

"Hmph. Drink this."

Merlin drank. "Ew."

"Your fault," said Gaius. "Foolishness always tastes bitter."

Merlin stood. "Maybe it does. I have to go find Arthur. Gaius." He clasped the old man's hands. "Thank you. For everything. You are my uncle, but you've been a father, a teacher, and just…thanks." He hugged the physician, and walked away swiftly.

Gaius Ambrosius sat in the chair his nephew had just vacated, feeling a single salty tear get lost among his wrinkles. That had not been a thank-you.

It had been a farewell.

* * *

**AN**: The plot thickens. Merlin plans to reveal his magic, and something is wrong with Uther Pendragon...my apologies to anyone who knows anything about swords: my description of Excalibur was pulled off the top of my head.


	11. The Concience of the King

AN: Enjoy!

* * *

(11) The Conscience of the King

_"I am not the only child of my generation to have lost one or both parents during that time period. I'm one of the lucky ones. I missed out on the lion's share of the resentment."_

The words rang in Uther's inner ear, taunting him to just _try_ to sleep. Why was he thinking so hard about a servant? Not the only child…

* * *

"_Nimue!" He called after the pretty, black haired woman, one of his closest friends. Besides Gaius, who specialized in medical magic, she was the__ official magic user of the court. _

_"Uther!" she smiled and waved. "I am taking my noonmeal with Gaius today. Care to join us, my lord?"_

_"Perhaps I will."_

_"Ygraine is welcome too."_

_Uther's pleasant expression shadowed slightly._

_"I see," said Nimue. "No good news then."_

_"None. She does so want a child."_

_"And you need an heir."_

_Uther nodded. "Isn't there anything you can–"_

_"No." Nimue cut him off. "Nothing that I'm willing to dabble in. Gaius' enchanted fertility potions are all well and good, but using magic to create life is dangerous and ill-advised, to say the least."_

_"Gaius' potions taste like horse snot," Uther muttered._

_"I heard that!" said Gaius._

_"What if I don't care, Nimue?" Uther continued. "What is your price for helping my wife conceive?"_

_"It is not _my_ price, Uther, it is the price of the Old Religion. You remember what I told you when you first asked me about magic?"_

_"You said that according to the Old Religion everything is perfectly balanced. You change one thing with magic, something else is affected too. That is the limitation of sorcery."_

_"Exactly. And no balance is stronger than the balance of life. For every life taken there is a life given, and for every life given there is a life taken. If I help you to have a son, someone near you _will _die. I cannot know who. Is that a risk you are willing to take?"_

_"Yes!"_

_"So be it," said Nimue. "I am going to live to regret this."_

_

* * *

_

_His wife held their baby son in her arms, crying softly. "So beautiful, Arthur. Uther," she added suddenly._

_"Yes, love?" He glanced at Gaius, who shook his head grimly._

_"Love him well. I wanted this too, Uther. It's not their faults."_

_Uther looked at Nimue. "Save her."_

_"I can't. And if I could, at what price, Uther, another life? When does it stop? I didn't know it would be her life that was taken!"_

_The Queen's eyes began to close._

_"Ygraine? Ygraine? Stay awake, love. Ygraine!"_

_"YOU!" He roared at Nimue. "You and your magic! You killed her."_

_"I did no such thing. You knew the risks of the spell you asked me to do."_

_"Enchantress! Murderer!" He lunged at Nimue, and she vanished._

_And so began the Great Purge, the banning of all magic from Pendragon lands. Why was he thinking about this now?_

"I am not the only child…"_ The druid warlord Alvarr, and many others, had lost both parents in the Purge, and vowed to bring Camelot to its knees. _"Missed out on the lion's share of the resentment…"_ Alvarr was resentful. Merlin was not. But Merlin was from Ealdor. He had not been affected by the Purge. Had he?_

_

* * *

_

_The Dragonlord was a tall man, dark of hair and lean. He stood tall, proud like a noble, yet his deep, well-like blue eyes shifted this way and that. The Dragonlord was afraid. _

_Uther smiled. Good. "What do they call you, sorcerer?"_

"_I am Balinor, the last living Dragonlord."_

_Despite himself, Uther was impressed. Balinor carried himself well. Not like a noble –like a prince. "Where are you from, Balinor? Do not look so frightened! I wish no harm to your hometown. I assure you, the recent attacks have been solely on evildoers –I harm no innocent, and in any case, the violence has gone on far too long."_

_Balinor didn't look particularly reassured. "I hail from Ealdor, my lord."_

_Uther hid a grimace. He couldn't raze Ealdor even if he wanted to –the hamlet belonged to Cendred on any map. He leaned forward. "Do you know why I have summoned you here, Balinor of Ealdor?" _

_Balinor, who by all accounts had been captured rather than summoned, took a deep breath. "I can only assume you desire to execute me, Uther Pendragon."_

_Uther effected a scandalized expression. "Indeed not! The violence in Camelot has gone on long enough! I have summoned you here because you possess an ability that I wish to make full use of. You can communicate with dragons."_

"_There is only one left in the land! Do you intend to kill him too?"_

"_No!" said Uther vehemently. "My dragon-killing is in the past. The dragons are a noble race, and should not be driven to extinction. I wish to make peace."_

_Balinor was not impressed. "What will I get for this service?"_

"_Freedom," said Uther. "You can go your way without fear of my holding you accountable for your use of magic._

"_And if I refuse?"_

_Uther glared at him._

"_Right." He couldn't refuse._

* * *

Uther took one look around the room. This was just dream, not memory –he'd never been privy to this conversation, yet he got the distinct sense that it had actually occurred...

_Gaius rounded on the Dragonlord, his face livid. "I hid you in Ealdor with my sister so that you could find a good time to flee! What in the names of all the gods were you still doing there a year later?"_

_Balinor shifted his weight on his feet. "Well…I couldn't leave. Not after…"_

_Gaius groaned. "I should have known. Hunith. You married her, didn't you?" The words 'you better have' were quite clear in his glare._

_"Aye," said Balinor with a smile._

_"Good man. And? "_

_"And our baby boy is four months old. He's got a gift, I wager."_

_"Besides the Dragonlord powers he'll get when Uther tires of your usefulness?" said Gaius, a little snarkily. "For his sake, I hope not. Whatever Uther is up to, it's not peace. I have renounced magic, but he knows better than to tell me what he is planning."_

_"I know, but he'll kill me, at the very least, if I refuse."_

_"What is my little nephew's name?"_

_"Merlin." _

__

_

* * *

_

Uther Pendragon woke, and sat up in bed. "Merlin." Merlin, the son of Gaius' sister and Balinor, the last Dragonlord. Merlin, who was fiercely loyal to Arthur, to Camelot, despite having ample reasons to hate his bloodline with a passion equal to the warlord Alvarr's. Merlin the sorcerer. He had damaged Merlin's family, and yet the young man loved his son like a brother. When his family had been damaged, Uther had tried to revenge himself. Merlin. Merlin was a sorcerer… Uther could not imagine Merlin using magic at all, let alone evil magic. Was it possible, what Gaius had always maintained, that magic was like a tool, like a sword, only as good or ill as the person who wielded it? How many innocents had he killed for their potential to possess magic, how many children, how many new fathers like Balinor?

_What had he done?_

_

* * *

_

**AN**: A very strange chapter. Uther Pendragon does some soul searching, and _figures it out_. Gah! What's gonna happen to Merlin now? I played with the facts just a tad, since in the series didn't Balinor not know he had a kid?


	12. Excalibur

(12) Excalibur

"Merlin, _why_ are we all the way out here in the middle of the night? Tell me again."

"Because there's something you need before the battle with Niniane."

Arthur growled slightly. "That's not an answer. We need to be back in the city by sunup, or my father will throw a fit."

"You'll be back in plenty of time," said Merlin. You. The 'we' was debatable. "We're here."

"And here is where, exactly?" Arthur asked peevishly. "Look, Merlin, I'm tired, it's dark, and–" He stumbled forward slightly.

Merlin caught the back of his tunic. "We're at the edge of a lake."

"Oh, joy. I wish I could see."

"Hmm. Do you trust me, Arthur?"

"_Yes_, Merlin, I trust you. Has the fact that we are in the middle of the forest by a lake on a whim of yours completely escaped your notice?"

"Can you promise not to panic?"

"Can I –why would I panic? It's only dark."

If the situation were not so serious, Merlin would have enjoyed Arthur's look of total non-comprehension. "I was talking about panicking about the light."

"_Merlin_."

"Promise?"

"I promise. Why am I promising?"

"Because I am about to do something that is very illegal, and I hope you will still trust me afterwards, though I can't expect you to."

Arthur sighed angrily. "Stop being so melodramatic, Merlin. Will it help me see where I'm going?"

"Certainly."

"Then I don't mind."

"Why don't I believe you?" Merlin muttered. "_Thaes leohtfaetes thother_." A flash of blue-white light condensed into a small sphere in Merlin's hands, illuminating his pale face and Arthur's suddenly gaping one. "Here, take it." Merlin thrust the light into Arthur's hands before he could back away. "It's quite safe."

Arthur stared at it. "Merlin." He'd seen this before. Someone had summoned a light to help him fight his way out of a spider-filled cave with a cure for the poisoned Merlin. Magic. _Merlin_ had just used _magic_.

"Look, I don't care where or how you learned it, just don't, _please_ don't _do_ that, Merlin! I don't want to see you corrupted by magic, and I don't want to see you arrested for using it."

Merlin shook his head. "You don't get it, Arthur. I've never learned magic. I was born with it."

"But magic is–"

"Treason, I know. I've been committing treason my whole life by simply existing."

"Merlin…" Arthur shook his head, an appalled expression on his face. "The law…"

"I know. By law, you must kill me now. I told you I was about to do something illegal." Merlin walked to the edge of the water and knelt. Water lapped at the toes of his boots, gently, like a lover's touch. A lover's touch! Freya, who had died here, had been twice the woman Niniane ever was! What had he been _thinking_? "_Cumae se heoru thas fenlglas_!" Merlin cried aloud."_Cumae Caliburnam_!" Something long and glittering rose out of the water and drifted through the air like a scrap of mist. Merlin reached up a hand and caught it.

Arthur stared. Merlin stood at the edge of the lake, holding a sword aloft. This was not the Merlin he had always known, the clumsy, smiling, innocent Merlin, and yet…it _was_ the Merlin Arthur had always known, the wise, secretive, warrior-like Merlin, the hint of something hiding in his well-like eyes. How had he not seen it, not seen the sorcerer right under his nose, at the very heart of Camelot?

"This is yours," said Merlin. It was the sword Uther had described.

Merlin knelt on the bank and offered the sword to Arthur, hilt first. "Excalibur. She was made for you to wield, and for no other. She was tempered in dragonfire, and can kill the dead."

Arthur took the sword and held it up. A hand and half long, simple and beautiful. He swung it. The balance was perfect. This was a king's sword. Arthur had no doubt it could do what Merlin said it could, and more. It hummed in Arthur's palms, and he had the keen sense that this sword was almost awake, almost _alive_. Magic. A smile itched to spread itself over Arthur's face. The soldier and knight in him was _very_ pleased. Even if it was a magic blade, this would help turn the tide of the battle.

Arthur's stomach churned unpleasantly.

It was still a magic blade.

Merlin was a sorcerer.

A traitor to Camelot, at traitor to his friendship, and a liar.

"Merlin." Merlin still knelt at Arthur's feet, at his mercy, waiting. "Why?"

"My life is bound to yours, Arthur. It is my destiny to protect you, and I swore to do it –because I counted you my prince, my king, my _friend_."

Arthur stared at Merlin, shocked out of the trance the shock and the beautiful blade had placed him in. "Friend! _Friend_? You have betrayed my trust. You are a sorcerer, a worker of magic, and I cannot trust a word you say. You've lied to me for how many years, Merlin? Three? Four? Hah! Friend indeed."

Merlin glared at Arthur. He had half hoped that Arthur would understand, and half expected this reaction, but that did nothing to stop the hot feeling of anger and betrayal in his own chest. "There!" said Merlin. "Can you see why I never told you? I served you, I protected you, I saved your life countless times with and without magic. Niniane asked me to go with her, did you know that? She's not the first, either. I refused because of _you_. _I_ counted you as my friend. You, Arthur, the son of _Uther_ _Pendragon_. I actually began to think you were different from him. I thought you could judge people for _who_they were, rather than what they could do. I was wrong. You are your father's son. If you can't associate with evil soulless fiends like me, then go on, Pendragon, uphold the law. Kill me. I can't think of a spell that can withstand that sword."

"Leave." Arthur's voice was flat, expressionless.

"What?"

Arthur's face was as impassive as stone, and just as cold. "Did you honestly think I would waste my time –and this sword –in killing _you_? Leave. I don't care where you go. Leave now, and if I ever see your traitorous face again, sorcerer, I swear I _will_ kill you. Go. Run. Run!"

* * *

Merlin ran.

Merlin ran without a thought to where he was going, ran through the dark forest like a hunted creature, ran like all the sorcerers who had run from the Pendragons, simply ran. Branches smacked him in the face like impeding arms, and he tripped and stumbled over roots that he wouldn't have been able to see even if his eyes were free of tears.

He ran.

He ran.

He ran.

And finally, when he was exhausted and could run no more, Merlin tripped, sprawled upon the unforgiving ground, and slept.

* * *

"There he is!" Gwen pointed to the fringe of the forest, where a single rider had emerged into the noonday sun. He held a sword aloft so that it caught the rays, an age-old warrior's signal for 'I'm here'. "Thank goodness he's all right."

Uther nodded stiffly. He certainly hadn't slept well that night, and his mental agitation had not been improved by getting up to find both Arthur and his sorcerer-servant missing.

"Is Merlin with him?" Gaius asked anxiously.

Gwen shaded her eyes against the sun. "No, Arthur is alone."

Gaius drew in a shuddering breath. "I was afraid of that."

"It is true then?" Uther asked. "It occurred to me last night that it all fit together…that Merlin is the son of your sister by the Dragonlord?"

Gaius looked briefly shocked, then nodded.

"You hid him well," said Uther. "And I am strangely glad."

"Arthur!" Gwen ran to him as soon as he entered the courtyard. "What–"

"Later," said Arthur dully. "Is this the sword, father?"

"It is," said Uther. "Where did you find it?"

"Merlin retrieved it from the bottom of a lake…with magic. Merlin is a sorcerer."


	13. Blaise

(13) Blaise

It was entirely too bright.

The light caressed his eyelids –a cool, keen, white light that absolutely insisted upon wakefulness.

He opened his eyes.

Light!

Light everywhere! It cascaded from curved walls of faceted crystal, poured from the ceiling, pooled in shimmering puddles on the floor. The light was white, and the crystals mostly clear. It was perfectly still, and yet it seemed to Merlin that there was a quivering sense of _almost_ _moving_, as if the crystal cave he found himself in was _waiting_ for something. It was peaceful. This was a place of magic, of nourishing power. There were no thoughts here. Merlin sat, his mind empty, drifting, waiting...

"Young Wolf." Someone was shaking him by the shoulder. "Young Wolf. Fascinating."

A sharp smell assailed his nostrils, and Merlin blinked. Had the light gotten dimmer? He shifted.

"_Finally_. Up you get, Young Wolf." Strong hands dropped a green plant stem, seized Merlin by the arm, and hauled him out of the cave and into the evening light that was filtering through the trees. His head whirled.

"Here. Drink this." Someone pressed a cup to his lips, and Merlin drank the herbal-tasting mixture obediently. His head ceased whirling, and he looked up at the tawny-eyed woman standing over him.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Young Wolf," she said with a smile.

"What happened to me?" Merlin croaked. "I felt like I could have sat there until the end of time."

"You almost did," said his rescuer. She was dressed all in green –a green tunic and loose breeches which perfectly complimented her bronze skin and short raven hair. She looked just a little older than himself. "You sat there all day. I can lose track of time in the crystal cave, but that was something else. For a moment, I thought…" She trailed off and regarded him speculatively.

"Thought what?" asked Merlin. "And who are you?"

"Call me Blaise. And never you mind, Young Wolf," she retorted, something hiding in the depths of her bright eyes.

"Why do you call me that?" Merlin asked.

"Because it is what you are."

Merlin frowned. Young Wolf. _Oh_. Something hard settled in the pit of his stomach. He was indeed a Young Wolf –a young "Wolf's Head", the term for a dangerous fugitive anyone was within his or her rights to kill on sight. A sorcerer. A traitor. "I've been trying not to remember that."

"A wolf is strong," said Blaise. "Resourseful, canny, fearless and enduring. And devoted to his packmates. In fact, he is much less himself without them." She stared hard at Merlin.

"I suppose it fits," said Merlin stiffly. He stared back. Who was this woman?

"What would you call yourself, then?"

Merlin's lips twitched up in a smile that was more than half irony. "Dawn Falcon."

Blaise snorted softly. "_Dawn_ Falcon? There isn't much light about you. Bitterness, guilt, fear? Oh yes. Light, honor, courage? Not so much."

Merlin's eyes narrowed, and Blaise chuckled. "You still have your pride at least, Falcon. I was half teasing. You hungry?"

"Starving," said Merlin.

"Thought so. Potato soup?"

"Yes, please."

Blaise led him a little ways from the cave. A small hut nestled in a clearing, surrounded by an herb garden and a veriety of trees. Inside, a pot of soup bubbled on a flagstone hearth.

"Thank you," said Merlin when Blaise handed him a steaming bowl.

She served herself and sat down across from him at the scrubbed wooden table. "You, young Falcon, are brimming with questions. I can tell. I'm not answering any of them until you clean your bowl."

Merlin ducked his head and complied. The soup was surprisingly good, filled with chunks of potatoes, broth, and a grain he couldn't quite identify.

"Good," said Blaise. "How do you feel?"

"Warm," said Merlin. "Well." Well. He hadn't felt truly well, truly healthy in…how long had it been? Since several weeks before Niniane had come to Camelot.

Niniane. Camelot. Arthur.

Merlin scowled, and pushed the thoughts away.

Blaise was watching him closely. "You may ask your questions now."

Merlin thought a moment. "Is the cave yours?"

Blaise smiled, her white teeth bright against her bronze skin. "Not hardly. I am its temporary guardian. The crystal cave belongs to a sorcerer that will come after me. Only he can master all its secrets."

"Huh," said Merlin. "How old are you, then?" She looked only slightly older than he was.

"As old as my tongue, and a little older than my teeth," Blaise retorted. "What a question! I have been here a long time. Time moves slowly around the crystal cave, and _inside_ the cave, if time moves at all it moves backwards. Not for the world, mind. Just for the people."

"But what _is_ it?" asked Merlin.

"How am I supposed to know that?" Blaise asked. "It is a place of power, certainly. A peaceful place. So peaceful, in fact, that it can send a powerfully gifted warlock into hibernation!" She smirked at him, and Merlin ducked his head. "Don't try to hide it, Falcon –you have a _gift_. A powerful destiny lies upon you."

Merlin stiffened. "Don't talk to me about destiny."

"Why not?" Blaise's voice was dark and alluring.

Merlin swallowed. "Because mine is wrong."

"That's not possible."

"It _is_ possible."

"Explain it to me then."

Merlin looked away. "It's complicated."

"Meaning, you don't want to tell me."

"No, I don't."

"Have it your way."

* * *

Later, Blaise looked down on the soundly sleeping warlock, and sighed. So pale, so unhappy. "How very far you have come. How far you have yet to go!" She ran her slender fingers through his hair. "Sweet gods, he is so lost." And yet there was something about him, something that suggested a strength laid aside, forgotten, waiting to be picked up again. "Who are you? What are you? And why have you come to me, of all people?"

* * *

"Do you know how to fight, Dawn Falcon?" Blaise asked suddenly the next morning.

Merlin looked up from his breakfast. "With a sword? A little. Not very well, not without…cheating. Using magic."

"The 'cheating' is the important part," said Blaise. "_Cumae_."

The piece of bread Merlin was lifting to his mouth yanked itself out of his hand and zoomed into her palm.

"Hey!" Merlin cried. His eyes flashed gold and the bread sped back.

Blaise grinned. "Good. _Afielath_." A pot hanging from the ceiling plummeted suddenly.

"_Ahweirfe baec_." The pot changed directions as it tried to avoid Merlin and turned on Blaise.

"_Amundaru_! Oh, it is _on_, Dawn Falcon!"

They fought indoors and outdoors, battling with flying objects, elements, quarterstaffs, and everything in between.

"You are obviously the more powerful warlock," said Blaise, "but what I lack in _power_ I can make up for in _skill_."

"I've never used so much magic in a day before!" Merlin's eyes were alight, his voice happy and breathless.

Crack! Blaise struck out at him with a quarterstaff, and Merlin deflected it just in time.

If she were older, she would have cackled. "Eyes open, Falcon! You must be aware of everything around you –what can be used to your advantage, what can be used for the enemy spellcaster's, and what does she see when she looks at you?" Merlin sent a rock flying at her, and she ducked. "You're not trying. Imagine this is a real fight. I'm trying to kill you. I'm trying to kill someone you care about. How would you _really_ defeat me?"

Merlin swept at her legs with his staff. "I would break your stick. Or burn it. Or summon lightning to strike you."

"Why don't you do that now?"

Merlin emphasized each word with a blow. "Because. This. Isn't. A. Real. Fight!"

Blaise murmured something softly, and Merlin started. Morgana stood before him, brandishing a sword, an expression of hurt and fury on her face. Suddenly, she struck, and Merlin was fighting for his life. It was an illusion, he knew, it was not Morgana but Blaise, yet somehow the illusion helped him unlock a new reservoir of effort. Suddenly Blaise had flame-colored hair and angry black eyes for a split second, a split second before Arthur stood before him, Excalibur winking in his grasp.

Merlin froze.

Blaise's quarterstaff descended on his head with a tremendous _crack_, and all went dark.

* * *

"Nnng." Merlin groaned and opened his eyes.

"Oh, good. How do you feel?"

"Like an overenthusiastic teacher just cracked me over the head."

Blaise snorted. "I'm no one's teacher, not yet. But I _am_ sorry." She ran a hand gently through his hair. "I've never seen anyone freeze like that over a simple illusion spell. What did you see?"

Merlin's head hurt too much to think of an appropriate lie. "A woman that I tried to poison to keep her from killing the king. A girl I would have followed to the ends of the earth, but didn't because of my 'destiny'. And…Arthur Pendragon."

Blaise snorted again. "No wonder you froze. Two 'women scorned' can shake the foundations of the world, and Pendragons are certainly nightmare-worthy for a sorcerer. It goes to show, though, that one shouldn't be taken in by illusions. Self-created illusions especially." She frowned. "You've lived in the castle-town, then, if you have prevented an assassination."

"Several," said Merlin with a small smile. "Yes, I have."

"Mmm," said Blaise. "But why you would _want_ to prevent an assassination…You are a riddle wrapped in mystery and shrouded with enigma, Dawn Falcon."

Merlin chuckled. "You are not the first to say that."

* * *

**AN:** Blaise is a character briefly mentioned in the Arthurian legends as a teacher of Merlin. I thought about putting him (Blaise is a French boy's name, I think) in the story, but then up comes _this_ Blaise, strolling into my brain with all the crotchety wit of an old-man teacher. Except that she's not old, she's a girl, she's quite pretty, and she looks (in my mind, at least), a lot like Anjali Jay (Djaq from BBC Robin Hood). Oh, how I loved Djaq.


	14. Destiny

(14) Destiny

It was the silence that woke Merlin from sleep. The little hut was dark, the fire warm but very low, and there was no noise whatsoever. It was as if the world were hidden and muffled under a thick blanket. Something was singing…well, not singing, because there was absolute silence. But there was music somewhere, an elusive tune that hummed in his bones, refreshed him, and made sleep absolutely impossible.

Merlin threw back his covers and sat up on his pallet. He looked around. No Blaise. He slipped his boots on and padded to the door. Sure enough, a thick fog had rolled in during the night. It had completely swallowed Blaise's garden in grey blankness, and only slight shadows suggested the existence of the surrounding forest. The 'music' was neither louder nor quieter.

"What do you see?" Blaise's voice from where she sat on the bottom doorstep was quiet.

Merlin frowned and sat beside her. "Nothing. The fog is too thick."

"Nothing? I see a great deal more than nothing, and I am blind."

"What?"

Blaise turned her golden eyes on him. Magic-gold; almond-shaped pools of liquid metal. Blaise was using magic to see.

Merlin gave his teacher a long look.

"Close your eyes," she commanded. Merlin closed his eyes. "Take a deep breath, and listen."

Merlin listened. At first, all he could hear was the sound of his breathing, of Blaise's breathing, and the occasional drip-drip of condensation from the fog. And then, with the faint sense of the 'music' growing louder...

* * *

_"Guenivere!"_

_"No, Gaius, you don't understand. I've _had_ it. If he's not out here by evening, he's going to get a piece of my mind."_

_"I think it will be good for him…"_

_

* * *

_

Merlin opened his eyes and stared at Blaise. "What was that?"

"How am I supposed to know? –it was your scry, not mine."

"I was scrying?"

"A form of scrying. Much can be learned when one simply takes the time to listen, remember that. Have you never scried before?"

"Never on purpose." Merlin rubbed his arms. "I don't know how, and I usually don't like what I see."

"Mmm."

* * *

Life was timeless and simple in Blaise's corner of the world. Merlin was beginning to get the sense that she did not get many visitors. The sun burned up the fog by noontide, revealing a bright, clear day as hot and dry as it had been cool and wet. Merlin found himself helping Blaise in her garden. The time Merlin had spent living with Gaius had imbued him with some knowledge of herb lore, much to Blaise's astonishment and pleasure. They chatted amiably, enjoying the shared work. Their tools made a most satisfying chinking noise as they struck the hard earth like swords, turning over the top layer to reveal the rich damp loam beneath.

"'Old _Man_, Old _Man_, who are _you_?'" Blaise began to chant, emphasizing the words when her hoe struck the ground. Merlin caught her rhythm and swung with her. "'_I_ am the _Dove_, the _Hawk_, and the _Dawn_. I'm the Old _Wolf_, the _Dra_gon-Lord's _son_.'"

Merlin's rhythm faltered slightly.

"'Old _Man_, Old _Man_, what have you _seen_?' '_Much_ that will _be_, and _much_ that has _been_.' 'Old _Man_, Old _Man_, I _see_ you're from _court_. _Where_ is your _place_, _where_ do you _stand_, and _have_ you the _fa_vor _of_ the king's _hand_?' 'I may _stand_ out of _sight_, I may _stand_ at his _hand_, I am _gran_ted that _pri_vilege _in_ all the _land_.'"

Merlin struggled to keep working.

"'Old _Man_, Old _Man_, _where_ have you _lived_?' 'I've _lived_ in a _hut_, I've _lived_ in a _keep_, I've _lived_ in the _wild_woods and _on_ moun_tain_ _steep_. But _here_ in my _crystal_ cave, _here_ I will _sleep_.' 'Old _Man_, Old _Man_, _what_ shall I _say_, when _asked_ by the _ag_es _why_ here you _lay_?' 'Say that _here_ sleeps _Em_rys _in_ his _cave_. He will _wake_ with his _king_ in a _lat_er _age_.'"

Merlin stared at her. "Blaise, what _was_ that?"

Blaise shrugged. "A druidic child's clapping song, I think. It mentions the sorcerer of the crystal cave and a mythical warlock named 'Emrys'. They put Emrys and his king, 'The Bear' in everything. Emrys is quite a popular figure in the children's stories."

"So I've gathered," said Merlin wryly. "I take it that you don't believe in him?"

Blaise shrugged. "Not really. I never understood the druids. They're all so…patient. I'm not. Do you believe the stories?"

There was an odd, tight note in Merlin's voice. "Not anymore."

* * *

They rested in the afternoon when the sun became too hot.

"Would you tell me about yourself, Blaise?" Merlin asked suddenly. "Why do you live here?"

"Always questions," said Blaise. She sighed and traced a pattern on the doorstep "I, young Falcon, am simply the guardian of the crystal cave."

Merlin made a face. "I wouldn't ask so many questions if you actually gave me a long answer. What are you guarding the cave from?"

"I am guarding it for a sorcerer that will someday claim it as his own. That is my destiny."

Merlin snorted. "_Destiny_. In other words, you're stuck here."

Blaise raised her eyebrows. "Who said anything about that? I _chose_ this. I swore an oath with a Dragonlord as witness to guard this cave, and I have been quite content to keep my vow…" Her expression changed into one of discovery. "That's it, isn't it, Falcon? You don't understand about destiny at all."

"I think I understand fine."

"No, you don't." Blaise leaned forward earnestly. "You think that it's some kind of prescribed path that we have to follow, or a promise of something that never gets fulfilled. It's not like that. Our destinies may predict us, but they can't _shape_ us. Think about it. Before you heard of your destiny, were you fulfilling it?"

Before Merlin had heard of his destiny, he had been antagonizing Arthur, had been a foil, teaching the prince about respect and human kindness. He hadn't really stopped.

"Kind of," said Merlin.

"That is because our destinies don't dictate what we will do because of some magic that defines our lives. Instead, they predict what we will do because of who we are. The qualities that make up your soul are uniquely suited to your destiny –no one else can fulfill it, no one else would get the same satisfaction from completing it. For example, I'm old enough to know that I would have been most unhappy raising a family in some village, growing old, and dying. I like it here, it suits me. It suits me. "

Merlin frowned. '_Two sides of the same coin_', Kilgharrah had once called him and Arthur. Two sides of the same coin, not because they were _supposed_ to be, according to Blaise, but because they _were_. He was Merlin. Arthur was Arthur. Nothing had changed.

Merlin scowled. _Everything_ had changed. Arthur didn't want him, and couldn't accept his magic. Then again, Arthur hadn't wanted him at the beginning anyway, and had always pretended not to. Nothing had changed.

Merlin shook his head to clear it. "I'll… have to think about that one. Can you teach me more about scrying?

Blaise nodded. "Do you have family?"

The unexpected question caught Merlin off guard. "Yes."

"The easiest scrying, besides listening, is scrying what _is_, not scrying the future." She produced a lump of crystal from somewhere and handed it to him.

Merlin ran his fingers over the cool facets and felt a sense of calm steal over him. "This came from the cave, didn't it?" It fit perfectly into the palm of his hand, steady and solid and humming slightly with the music he had been hearing.

Blaise gave him a speculative look. "It did." She blinked rapidly. "Huh. Now, scrying an image usually requires a reflective surface, like a mirror, basin of water, or pool, though it is possible to see glimpses of things in smoke. Crystals work especially well. Scry your family. Hold an image in your mind, relax, and _look_."

Merlin peered into the crystal.

Blaise snickered. "Not with your eyes, you dolt! Use your magic."

He tried again.

* * *

_She sat and hummed a tune as she worked on her weaving. The tune was an old one, a ballad, and Merlin recognized the pattern of the blanket as the one she used for housewarming gifts. Someone in Ealdor was getting married. Her black hair was brushed with just a little more silver, and there were just a few more lines around her eyes than there had been the last time he had seen her. Hunith had been lovely in her youth, and age and care had not changed that, not to him. There was something of grace and gentleness and iron determination in her –the qualities that she had to have possessed to be a single mother in a little hamlet, raising a magical son._

_Hunith sighed, put down her shuttle and reached for a piece of hide she had laid by. It was soft, weathered, and inkstained, but not by writing. Her son was in the foreground of a sketch, his wise eyes alight. He held ball-lightning in one hand and a curious-looking staff in the other. A tall man who looked a little like him stood behind, and laid a blessing hand on his son's narrow shoulder. Faint lines suggested a distant dragon. An older man looked proudly on in the middle ground with a group of knights. Lancelot stood a little behind a smiling Guinevere, who had placed her hand on the shoulder of her king. _

_He was a fair-haired king, and he smiled at his queen's touch, startled in the middle of gesturing with a hand-and-a-half sword, perpetually frozen in ink with his left arm around the shoulders of Hunith's raven-haired, tousle-headed sorcerer son._

_

* * *

_

The crystal chimed one silver note as it slipped from Merlin's fingers and fell on Blaise's doorstep.

"It doesn't change a thing," Merlin murmured. Arthur was Arthur, no matter how idiotic or angry he was, no matter the fact he would kill Merlin. Arthur was Arthur, the future king of all Albion, and Merlin was Merlin and _nothing_ had changed. "You were right, Blaise. I have to go back. Or, at least, I can't stay away."

"Back?" Blaise stared at him. "Back where? What did you see, Falcon?"

"My name is Merlin," said Merlin. "I have to go back to Camelot."

* * *

**Author's Notes**: Hi! A lot of stuff happens in this chapter. Next Chapter: _The Crystal Cave_, in which we get some of the Arthur angst that's been asked for -though mostly in response to a _very _angry Guinevere. She can be quite mean whan she wants to be.


	15. The Crystal Cave

(15) The Crystal Cave

"Camelot?" Blaise regarded him as if he had grown a second head. "Do you have a death wish?"

Merlin shook his head. "I have a destiny. A destiny that is intertwined with that of Arthur Pendragon."

Blaise grinned. "So melodramatic! Honestly, Dawn Falcon, or Merlin, or whatever you call yourself, do you think you're Emrys or something? You _are_ a powerfully gifted warlock, but don't let it go to your head. Arthur Pendragon! Ha!"

"Emrys is exactly who I think I am, Blaise. Merlin Emrys. Dawn Falcon."

Blaise raised her eyebrows. "So you _do_ believe in the stories of Emrys and the Bear, the 'Once and Future King'." She ran a hand through her glossy black hair and sighed. "Merlin, Emrys is a myth. And there is no possible way Arthur Pendragon could be the Bear. He's _Uther_ _Pendragon's son_."

"Arthur is different than his father," said Merlin.

"_Is he_?" Blaise asked.

Merlin blinked. _Is he? Is he?_ The question mocked him. Was Arthur _really_ different, did Merlin trust him to be a just king to ordinary folk and magic users alike, did Merlin trust Arthur at _all_? They had been something like friends before…

Merlin swallowed. "I'm willing to take that risk." He started walking into the forest, his feet taking him automatically left, not quite to Camelot, not yet.

"And just what do you think you're doing?" Blaise was standing in the mouth of the crystal cave when he got there, glowering at him.

"Let me pass, Blaise. I have to go in there."

"And do what exactly, see the future? What can you do with that?"

"More than you've done," said Merlin. "I've seen enough of your power and heard enough of your history to know that you were here before the Purge and _stayed_ here during it. Where were you when Uther hunted the druids? Where were you when children were drowned and burned –surely you scried that coming. You said that you swore your oath to a Dragonlord, so where were you when the last of them were exterminated? You are extremely powerful, on par with the sorcerers of the Isle of the Blessed. Why haven't you _helped_? You're no use at all."

Blaise glared at him. "I'm bound here by oath, boy. Your goading is useless –I am the cave's Guardian. The crystal cave does not belong to you."

"Let me pass," said Merlin.

"No."

Merlin threw up his hands. "Blaise, I wasn't kidding when I said that I call lightning when I fight."

Blaise laughed. "Lightning is weather magic, Merlin. And it is _wild_. I would have time to kill you before you finished your spe–"

There was a flash of purple-white light, a wave of blistering heat, and a sound as if a dragon were roaring straight into her ears. Blaise staggered backwards. The ground was smoking just in front of her feet, and Merlin was smirking. "Who said I would use a spell? Stand aside, Guardian."

Blaise stared. "_Falcon-fire_," she murmured. "Falcon-fire. _The Falcon shall show you white fire…_"

Merlin wondered at his calm. He was losing time. Niniane's army would be in Camelot tomorrow, but he was strangely unruffled at Blaise's stubbornness. It was as if she was meant to resist him here, as if he was destined to defy her. Destiny. The music he had heard that morning was loud in his inner ear, in his bones, as if it were the crystal cave that was calling him, singing to his soul…

"The crystal cave is my birthright, Blaise Sigan. I, Merlin Emrys, claim it. I am prepared to defend my claim. Let me pass."

"'_The Falcon shall show you white fire, and the Wolf refuse to be hunted_,'" Blaise quoted again. "Idiot. It _is_ you, isn't it? I'm sorry."

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "I didn't hit your head, did I?"

"Just deflated it a bit. Get in there, Falcon. Don't lose yourself."

"I'll try not to."

* * *

The light pooled, shimmering in the crystals and gathering in intensity before spilling onto floors and walls and ceilings in a quivering blaze. Merlin sighed. He could spend hours staring at the glittering walls and exploring this place, but now he had no _time_. He took a deep breath, gathered his magic, and _looked_.

"Show me Arthur."

* * *

_"I thought I told you to leave me alone!" Arthur shouted at the fireplace, his back to the door._

_"You did," said Gwen coolly from behind him, setting a plate of food on the table. "I'm choosing to ignore you."_

_Arthur half-turned towards her. "Oh. It's you."_

_"Sit." Her tone of voice that smacked of a Morgana-like scorn, and yet it was completely Guinevere, which was surprisingly worse._

_Arthur sat._

_"I brought you food. You had better eat it."_

_Arthur pushed the plate away. _

_Gwen perched on the edge of the table and glared at Arthur. The prince sat stock still, his face, Merlin realized with a shock, the face of a man being tortured._

_"Get over yourself."_

_Arthur stared at her. "What did you say?"_

_"Get over yourself," Gwen repeated. Her voice was biting. "You are well on your way to becoming king, a king who must abide by the laws, who holds the lives of thousands of people in his hands." Arthur looked confused, and Gwen continued, merciless. _

"_So you murdered your friend. You murdered _my_ friend. Get over it." She gritted her teeth to bite back an angry sob. "It was just and required by law. You killed Merlin for breaking the law without a second thought, and yet you have the audacity to mope here while your people prepare for war. Have some consistency!"_

_Arthur's eyes flashed, and he gripped the edge of the table hard, and half rose. "_I am no murderer_, Guinevere! Do you think I would tell my father that I didn't have the guts to kill Merlin and in so doing broke the same law that requires his death? I am a liar and a weak man, but I am no murderer. I almost wish I was."_

"_So you concede that killing Merlin would have been murder?"_

"_That's not the point. What kind of _friend_ keeps a secret like that?" _

"_One who fears the retribution of a _friend_," Gwen retorted. "But then, what does one life matter in the grand scheme of things? What is the value of the life of a servant like I am, like Merlin was? Less than yours, certainly, and less than the value of your pride. You will be responsible for many more deaths and murders before the end, so you may as well get over yourself and get over your concern for human life right now and be done with it!"_

"I am not that kind of man, Guinevere_!"_

"_Then _prove_ it! Camelot needs you, Arthur, it needs a clear-eyed leader who can deal in justice and mercy, need your protection. Or are your people not as important as your sulk?"_

_Arthur growled slightly. "Tell my father that I will be surveying the defenses in half an hour. Is that all, Guinevere?"_

_Gwen touched his hand and brought it up to her face. "I need you too. Should you die, I…I don't know how I would live. And should Camelot fall, and become part of King Tor's lands…Niniane was kind to me, out of respect for Camelot's laws, but there is a law in Gwynedd that declares dark-skinned people as the children of demons. They are either banished or killed. I'm good with medicines, too, and they think that for a woman to have that skill is unnatural."_

"_Camelot will not fall," said Arthur. "And you are no demoness. You are beautiful." He stroked his hand against her cheek. "And you are kind and brave and gentle and generous –one needs simply to look at your actions to see that you are more of an angel than anything else."_

_Gwen blushed and bit her lip._

"_It's true," Arthur protested. "It is a cold and unjust law that makes an arbitrary judgment without taking into account the nature of the person. And on something as trivial as appearances! Your actions prove you a good woman, and no law can change the nature of a human being, just as no law should blindly condemn an unusual talent as making one automatically evil."_

_Gwen simply looked at him._

_Arthur's eyes were thoughtful for a moment before his expression changed into one of utter dismay._

_

* * *

_

The scry broke with the feeling of something shattering, and Merlin knelt on the floor of the crystal cave, panting for breath. That had been…hard to watch. He still needed more information.

"Niniane. Show me Niniane."

* * *

_She was wreathed in fire, her hair was the color of flame, and she surveyed the battlefield with a critical eye. So beautiful, so terrible. Niniane of the future, Merlin knew._

_She wore leather armor and broke bread with her father by the light of a lantern hanging from the peak of the tent._

_"We will reach Camelot before noon tomorrow," said Tor._

_"Good," said Niniane." Merlin somehow knew that this was a scry of the present. And then…_

_Niniane leaned against a tree, and a dark haired young man sat beside her. Merlin frowned. Himself… this scry was of the past. Past-Merlin was extremely pale, with dark circles under frowning eyes that only lightened slightly when he looked at the beautiful woman next to him._

"_The peace talks are going fairly well, I think," said Niniane. "When they're done, or wh –if they fall through, will you come with me, home to Gwynedd?"_

Niniane had caught herself saying 'when'. _When_ the peace talks fall through. not _if_. Merlin let the scry go and closed his eyes. Whether or not he had gone with Niniane, war had been the plan all along. Niniane may have tried to get him out of the line of fire, but the peace talks had been deliberately sabotaged, and nothing Merlin could have said would have kept Niniane from attempting to destroy the Pendragons.

He clenched his fists. He had been a minor player, irrelevant to Niniane's strategy. After her attempt to get him out of Camelot failed, she'd had no qualms about destroying Camelot with him inside. He would _not_ be discounted like that again.

Merlin walked out of the crystal cave into darkness. Blaise sat by a campfire a little ways off, and Merlin went to sit beside her.

"How long was I in there?"

"Almost the entire night."

Merlin swore. "I need to go."

Blaise handed him a bowl of stew. "Not before you eat. I take it there is some crisis in Camelot?"

"You know those women I told you about? One of them has raised an army of wraiths and plans to level the city."

Blaise whistled. "It takes a great deal of strength to raise an _army_ of wraiths, let alone one. And to destroy them. If you ask me, she's either leeching power from other sorcerers, or she has stolen their power."

"Stolen power? That's not good."

"No, it's not. She won't be able to keep the extra magic inside of her without going blind or at least becoming very clumsy and useless in a fight. My guess is that she will have an object with her, maybe a staff to hold the power."

"Hmm," said Merlin. "I have a staff of my own." He smiled slightly, imagining Blaise's reaction when she saw that it was a Sidhe staff, read the ominous inscription, and realized that he had no trouble at all using it.

He finished his stew and looked over at Blaise. "Come with me."

"What?"

"You've been stuck here for too long. Come with me, fight with me, and after the battle's over you can go see the world. Do something useful for a change. Since I've come, the cave has its owner. It no longer needs a guardian."

"Maybe I would," said Blaise, "but I've been here for too long. This is my home, and I can't bear to leave. And besides, I swore my oath of Guardianship to a Dragonlord. Only a Dragonlord can release me from it."

Merlin smiled. "Well, we can't have you stuck here, after all. Blaise Sigan, Guardian of the crystal cave, your oath is fulfilled in sight of the cave's rightful possessor: Merlin, called Emrys, son of Balinor and last Dragonlord of Albion."

Blaise seemed to be in shock. "Dragonlord…"

"I have to go," said Merlin. "I won't look back to see if you are following me, but it would be great if you came. Thank you, Blaise…for everything you've done for me these past few days. I'll come back and visit, if I can."

Merlin turned, and set off through the woods.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** The story speeds up from here on out...sort of. It slows down for a bit of pre-battle fluff, and for Uther and Arthur to get their acts together. Make no mistake, Uther's change of heart didn't change his character -he's still stubborn, calculating, idiotic, and stubborn, and Arthur may yet pay the price for it...


End file.
